by Margaret Leith Minter
Victoria B.C. Canada
Down by the loch, where the heather is blooming,
I walk in the twilight of memory once more;
And I listen to voices that speak of my childhood,
Happy days that we spent on that wild Scottish shore.
But nothing is moving and nobody's waiting,
As I gaze at the place where we met lang, lang syne,
And I feel the first chill of winter approaching,
I wonder what happened to those old friends of mine.
But time passes quickly, I wake with the dawning,
My memories of Scotland drift back in my mind,
And the loch and the heather and friends I remember
Will stay in the shadows that I left behind.